


Jean's Grand Unbecoming

by TheSilverField



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, canonverse, takes place after events of chapter 50
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-05 04:18:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14036016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilverField/pseuds/TheSilverField





	Jean's Grand Unbecoming

The last thing Jean remembered before everything went black was the sight of golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. The way his jaw was set in determination, his fists clamped white-knuckled around the reins of his horse. The way the air was thick with the stench of rotting corpses. Of decaying flesh and far too much blood.

The last thing Jean remembered before everything went silent was his name on soft lips. It filled the air like the sound of canon fire, filled with fear and hurt and so many other things that Jean couldn't quite name at the moment. But those lips. Those lips had been his undoing for years now, though he had been doing a pretty good job of keeping that secret.

When he awoke again. When he could finally see golden hair and bright blue eyes and soft lips that were harboring whimpers in place of his name, he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself.

"I'm sorry, Jean. I'm so sorry. I wish I was faster. I'm sorry." The sniffling blond was murmuring brokenly. Jean tried to ignore the fact that he was holding his hand.

He couldn't.

"Armin...." he whispered gruffly, voice hoarse and thick with sleep. He tried to ignore the flutter in his chest when Armin's head popped up, eyes wide and hopeful, face twisted in guilt and heartbreak.

"Jean! I..." the boy tried to speak, to give an explanation of what happened or apologize profusely, but his words were tangling up in his throat. He asked the only thing he wanted an answer to right now. "Are you okay?"

Jean began to sit up, eyes flickering with pain as the pounding in his head grew more prominent at the action. The blonde boy was quick to help, steadying him, hovering over. His movements were quick and jerky, his nerves getting the better of him right now.

The wounded boy had always liked to watch Armin move. It was always with purpose, fluid and soft.The way he would push his long hair out of his face. The way he cleaned their gear so meticulously. The way his eyes swept over the words of a book, his fingers gently turning it's pages as if it were a fragile thing that would crumble if handled too roughly. The way his lips moved as he talked. The way his hips swung as he walked.

He just couldn't get enough.

Armin's hands were wrapped gently under Jean's elbows, holding him upright until it seemed he could sit up by himself. He still didn't let go. His skin felt hot under the blonde's touch, his cheeks tinting a soft pink beneath his beautifully blue gaze. "I... I'm okay." he stammered, feeling his face growing even warmer from the embarrassment of his own stuttering.

One of Armin's hands let go of his arm to bring it to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his blush as their eyes searched one another. "You're flushed, Jean. Maybe you should lay back down." he suggested softly, worry lacing his every word.

But that was the last thing Jean wanted. He couldn't possibly think of laying down and leaving the feeling of Armin's warm touch. He was left speechless, and found himself leaning against the fingers brushing against his cheek. He felt something within himself begin to unravel. A slow, grand unbecoming of everything he held secret within himself.

"Armin, I--"

It was as sudden as summer storms. As breathtaking as autumn sunsets. As beautiful as his morning glory eyes.

The feeling of Armin's lips pressed to his was a stunning surprise for Jean. His heart was pounding so hard and loud that he was afraid the blonde could hear it, and his mind felt as if it had been turned to mush. But he didn't need to use his brain to know what he was supposed to do. What he  _wanted_ to do.

Jean brought his hands up to tangle in long golden hair, pulling the boy closer as their lips danced together in harmony so perfect it was as if they had practiced this song their whole lives. When they finally pulled away to catch their breaths, their eyes locked, Armin was the first to speak.

"I thought you were going to die." He had said it in such an abrupt way, a way that Jean wasn't particularly accustomed to unless he pried it out of him, that it almost scared him. Because it made him realize that, yes. Armin had really thought Jean was going to die. But the terror laced in those words was what really drove it home. "I thought that you were going to die, and that I would've never gotten the chance to do that."

Jean stared at him for just a moment, moving to cup the other's cheeks in his hands just as gentle as if he were holding something as fragile as porcelain. He didn't promise anything he couldn't keep. He didn't swear to him that he wouldn't die. That he would always be here and that everything was fine. The life they led was far too cruel to make promises like that. He only kissed him again, the softest breath of a kiss, and let Armin hold him a little tighter.

They reluctantly pulled away once again, and Jean offered a lighthearted smile. "For now, I'm right here. I'm all your's, and you can kiss me as much as you want."

Armin's grin was so wide and bright, Jean almost thought it was too good to be true. He was just dreaming, right? He was still asleep, his mind playing sadistic tricks on him while he lay in a coma. Or worse, he really was dead and this was nothing but a prank that the devil was pulling before he was sent to Hell. This was just a lie. This was just a dream.

A dream come true.

He didn't have time to think about it any longer before Armin had pulled him back in, and his brain was mush again. He decided that it didn't matter. That he simply didn't care if it  _was_ a dream, because either way he was still getting to kiss the boy he had been crushing on since his cadet years.

Jean didn't feel so tangled up in his secrets anymore. The unraveling--that slow, grand unbecoming--made him feel freer than the wings he and his love donned on their backs.

The last thing Jean remembers that night before everything goes dark is the sight of golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. The way his jaw falls slack in pure pleasure, his fists clamped white-knuckled in the bed sheets. The way the air was thick with the smell of lust. Of heated passion and sweet summer sweat.

The last thing Jean remembers that night before everything goes quiet is his name on soft lips. It fills the air like the sound of canon fire, filled with love and longing and so many other things that he couldn't name at the moment. These lips. These lips had been his undoing for years now, and he was unbelievably happy that the secret was out.

When he awoke again. When he could finally see golden hair and bright blue eyes and soft lips that were harboring whimpers of his name, he knew exactly what to do with himself.


End file.
